Soul Mates
by BehindTheseWalls
Summary: Ziva returns to D.C. after spending ten years away from the team. She seeks out Tony to try and reconcile her lack of communication for so long, only to find something she hadn't expected waiting for her. Set ten years after Past, Present and Future (and my story Kiss The Air, though you don't need to have read that to read this one!)
1. Chapter 1

Soul mates.

As soon as the plane had landed and she inhaled that first breath of D.C. air, she knew she was back where she belonged. The atmosphere here was cool, and despite the traffic, everything felt tranquil, a far cry from the never ending dry heat and political uncertainty of Israel. She loved Tel Aviv, it was a part of her, roots which coursed through her blood and made her the woman she was today. But those roots were old, weathered, worn, she had made new roots somewhere else, and try as she might she couldn't let them die; she couldn't revive the old ones, and so she owed it to herself to return, to revive what she had left behind a decade ago now, or at the very least, to see an old face whom she had thought of every single day since she left.

She took a cab through the city. Structurally, so little had changed in her absence. Aesthetically, it was as if she were a first time tourist. The things she used to know, the places she frequented, markets, stores, bars, they were no longer the ones she had left behind, they had new names, new signs, new décor. What could she expect? Lives went on, even if you weren't there to see them do so. People moved, they died, they sold up, they bought new, each change was a sign of the times, of people making decisions that best affected them, to get the most from what they had; just like she thought she was doing years ago.

The cab turned down a street she could have painted a perfect portrait of from memory; a street she was pleased to see had not changed in her absence. Sure some of the cars were different, a few window decorations had changed but on the whole, it was just the way she remembered. As they drew to a halt the driver looked at her in the mirror; he was young, younger than she remembered cabbies being, but then she was older now, so perhaps that was what clouded her judgement.

"You need a hand with the bag m'am?" _M'am._ She might have been older but she certainly didn't deserve to be m'am'd just yet.

"No, I have got it covered." She returned leaning forward and passing some notes through the window. "Keep the change." She instructed. This being her first stop since arriving, she didn't have any single bills so she had tipped way too high, not that the driver would complain about that. Pushing open the door, she stepped onto the wet asphalt underfoot; a heavy rain had clearly fallen earlier, and now delicate puddles reflected the streetlamp haze and headlight glare. She walked to the trunk and pulled it open, reaching for the modest case she had brought with her; small enough to check in as a carry on; that was how she had lived her life these last years, making sure she never held anything so dear that it could not be fitted into that tiny case and moved at a moment's notice. She lifted the case with ease to the ground below and extended the handle. Closing the trunk and wheeling to the sidewalk she waved and thanked the driver as he pulled away.

Turning, she looked up at the towering apartment block before her. She located the window she recalled looking out of on occasion, the window she had once pictured herself looking out of every morning for the rest of her life. The light was out, but it wasn't all that late, too early for sleep at least. Perhaps he was out? Watching a movie? Maybe he no longer lived there at all. There was only one way for her to find out the answer to that. She stepped one foot in front of the other with no thoughts passing through her mind but a host of butterflies unfurling their wings in her stomach.

As she approached the door she let her fingers grace the keypad, her subconscious tapping in the correct order of numbers to grant her access. She felt her heart skip a beat when the door unlatched; she still knew the code. She pulled open the door and stepped inside, the familiar smell of pine cleaner filling her with a host of happy memories she had long but forgotten. Her fingers twitched as she hovered them over the elevator call button, she flexed them in and out before deciding to take the stairs; she hadn't planned what she was going to say, how she was going to say it, she hadn't even thought about what she'd do if he didn't live here anymore. Coming back had been a long shot; would he even want to see her after everything that had passed between them? The thoughts circled around and around in her head as she climbed each flight of stairs. Would he look the same? Talk the same? Did he still like movies? Did he still work for Gibbs? Did he have his own team? Was his father still behaving like a teenager? Was his father even still alive? She'd heard about Jackson Gibbs, she'd even booked herself a flight back for the funeral, only to change her mind at the last minute; she'd been gone less than a year then, she hadn't found what she had been looking for when she left, going back would confuse not only herself but him too.

Before she realised, she had reached his door. She hadn't even noticed that her feet had drawn her down the hallway as if running on instinct. She set her suitcase down beside her and touched her chilled fingers to her chest. She could feel it sitting there, the key he'd given her to his apartment about a month before she left, the key he said was so she could come and go as she pleased, make herself at home, make her feel safe. She had always intended on returning it to him, but after she left, things had happened so quickly it had slipped her mind. She found the key nestled between a picture frame of her, Ari and Tali as children and a picture of the entire team taken one Thanksgiving. She thought about mailing it back to him, but something inside of her physically ached when she tried to place it in the envelope. It was like she was truly sealing off all ties to him, and while that had been her intention by staying in her homeland, she wasn't ready for that to be a reality. She'd never use it, of that she was certain, but just holding it gave her a link to him that was physical in one way or another.

_Knock. Just knock._ She urged herself.  
_What if he's not there?  
What if he is?  
You'll never know unless you try…_ Her mind ran in circles, arguing and justifying to herself. She raised her hand several times to rap against the wood, each time loosening her grip and dropping it to her side. She'd never felt like this before, she couldn't remember a time when nerves had affected her. She wasn't raised that way, she didn't live that way.  
_Just. Knock._

Inhaling deeply, she held her breath as she let her hand motion towards the door, her heart pounding so fast she fell deaf to the sound of her knock. Her chest rose and fell with speed, she rocked back and forth on her feet before turning and deciding to leave; she wasn't ready for this, she couldn't know, what if he opened the door and just shut it back on her… what if he didn't want to see her? She'd made it about five paces when she heard the door click open behind her. Halting dead in her steps, she turned back with caution and clocked eyes on the man leaning out of the door frame.

It was him. Tony DiNozzo. Ten years had aged him slightly but he wore it well. He was still in shape, a sweater covered his torso but she could see it hugging the muscles of his arms, and she just knew those abs would be under there somewhere; the abs she'd shared a bed with on many occasions; abs she'd thought about in the lonely nights… He had a few wrinkles near his eyes; wrinkles from smiling, laughing, the good kind of wrinkles, the ones that showed he had had a good life, a fun life, an enjoyable one. His hair was very lightly peppered with greys, the kind that defined him, that matured him in a dignified way. And he still had those thick black eyelashes that framed his gorgeous sparkling green eyes.

"Ziva?" The look of surprise in his eyes didn't give away if he thought it was a good or bad surprise that she had turned up here, out of the blue.

"Hello Tony." She smiled at him but didn't move.

He stepped out into the hallway, looking back into his apartment briefly before doing so. He left the door open, the light from inside sending ambient light spilling into the hallway.

"Wh…wh…" he scanned her up and down, his eyes wide, as though disbelieving she was really there. "What are you… what are you doing here?" he questioned, clearly too stunned to form too many words.

She shrugged with a delicate grin. "I was thinking about… I thought I…" she paused momentarily, taking a breath to compose her scattered thoughts. "I am home." She admitted.

Tony rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger before pinching the bridge of his nose. She was back. She was really here. He'd dreamt of her return for so long, he'd imagined it a thousand different ways. He'd always pictured her phoning him, he'd go to the airport; he'd have a bunch of flowers, something delicate, elegant, something bright and fragrant, fresh and green. He'd stand and wait, shifting from foot to foot as the flight board updated, as it told him she had landed, she'd got to baggage claim and now she was heading towards him. He's scan the crowd until he found her then he'd clock eyes on her, smile and like every cheesy movie he'd ever seen, he'd jump that damn barrier, pull her into his arms and tell her if she ever dared to leave again he'd chain himself to her. He'd tell her that leaving her behind and meant he left a piece of him, his heart, his soul, his jigsaw was incomplete… she'd tell him she was back to stay and they'd kiss causing hordes of fellow travellers to applaud and watch as their love story played out before them. Of course, that dream grew more and more distant the longer she stayed away, now his dreams were more and more infrequent, but every so often he'd wake up breathless when he saw her face amongst the crowd of his subconscious.

"What do you mean you're home?" he asked. He needed clarity before he let his hopes soar.

"I am back. I have done all the penance I can do. I need to be with my… family." She admitted, stumbling over the word, unsure if she could truly call herself family after a decade of absence.

Tony stared at her for what seemed a torturously long time. Ten years had changed her, and yet it had left so many things the same. Her accent was stronger, the way it had been when he first met her; extended time in her native land would do that, he pondered how much she had been able to speak English in the past years, if at all. Physically, she was the exact woman who he had left at the airport as if it were yesterday. Her dark hair still hung in beautiful waves, tumbling down her back and in front of her shoulders, she still had defined eyebrows, long dark lashes and eyes the colour of melted chocolate. Her face remained untouched by time; though she did appear to have developed a beautiful glow atop her already sun kissed skin. There was an aura about her that had not been there when they had parted ways. She no longer seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, she seemed to be happy, not just outwardly, but in her very core, she radiated peace and beauty, as though she had finally put all her demons to bed.

"It's good to see you Ziva." He admitted, stepping forward and wrapping his arms somewhat hesitantly around her. As soon as he touched her, he felt a spark reignite within him, he felt her reciprocate his gesture, her own arms folding around him, her body fitting perfectly against his as though she had never not been there.

He held her for what seemed like an eternity. He feared that letting her go would mean he'd lose her again; if he let her go, she could run, she could go back and shatter his whole reality once more. But, as much as he'd have liked to, they couldn't stay there indefinitely.

"Would you uh, do you wanna come inside?" he motioned to the door.

She wished she could have found words, but right now it was taking all the energy she had to keep her heart firmly inside her chest. She gave a simple nod and followed him into the apartment. As she passed over the threshold she was greeted with the smell she so fondly remembered. _His_ smell. The smell she hadn't bothered to wash off her clothes after their last day together, not until it had all but vanished and she was sure what she thought she was smelling was only in her imagination. There was something mixed with the smell she remembered, something sweeter, softer, but then, memory had a way of fooling you, perhaps that was always the way it had smelt, she had just clouded it with her own beliefs and ideals as the years had worn on. The rest of the apartment had barely changed. He'd decorated it, added a few wooden boxes in the corners of the room, no doubt to store his ever increasing movie collection, but otherwise, it was exactly as she remembered it.

"I was not sure you would still be here." She admitted as she took a seat he offered her on the couch.

"Where else would I go?" he smiled. "I'm on rent control, this place is a steal." He moved away from her toward the kitchen. "Drink?" he asked, pulling a box of peppermint tea bags from the cupboard without waiting for her reply.

"You kept them?" she asked, a little bewildered.

"Oh, no, I threw them out years ago; they passed the use by so I got rid." He explained, filling a kettle with water.

She nodded, understanding. She had been gone a long while.

"But," he continued. "I bought in fresh, just in case you ever dropped by."

There it was. That flutter back in her heart again. She took a few slow breaths, trying to calm herself.

"I always hoped you'd be back someday." He spoke honestly. "I really missed you." He set the water to boil and returned to join her on the couch.

"I missed you too." She admitted.

"Could have fooled me." He mumbled.

"I guess I deserve that." She nodded.

"I wrote to you every day." There was tinge of anger to his tone. "Every day." He stressed.

"I know you did."

"You couldn't find a minute to reply?"

"I thought about it." She spoke. "In fact, I drafted many responses; I just could not bring myself to send them."

"Why?" he asked. "That's all I wanted, word that you are okay, something, _anything_."

She nodded. "I understand that, I have been feeling that way for the last seven years."

Tony did the math. He last tried to make contact with her seven years ago.

"I would have given anything to receive one of your messages but it was selfish of me to think that when I had never replied to yours."

"So why didn't you?" he queried, his voice now just sounding hurt.

"Because," she explained. "If I were to respond, it would be keeping the notion of us alive for you. I told you ten years ago that I wanted you to move on, that you deserved better. If I had kept our correspondence going, it would only have made the process for you worse."

"That was not your choice to make." Tony grunted. "You don't get to decide how I feel. What I do."

"No, you are correct, but I do get to decide where I stand. I loved receiving your messages, I so badly wanted to write back, but I could not do that to you. I could not keep alive an illusion that was not to be. As your contact grew fewer, I began to wonder if I should send something, if only because I selfishly was not ready for things between us to be completely gone. My heart would skip a beat when I would see your e-mails every few months, and then that last one came and I heard nothing. I took me a long time to be okay with that." She explained.

"If you were feeling that bad, why didn't you just come back sooner?"

"That would not have solved anything." She admitted. "I left for a reason. I needed to… to find myself. To _fix_ myself. To _be_ a better version of myself."

Silence passed between them for a few beats, interrupted only by the sound of the kettle beginning to whistle on the stove top. Tony quickly pulled himself to his feet and turned off the flames.

"And?" he asked, pouring the water into her mug, watching the teabag absorb water until it was flooded, spiralling green water into the ceramic. "Did you do it?"

"I do not know. I hope so." She admitted.

Tony brought the mug into her after topping up his own cup of coffee from the pot. He handed it over and felt his fingers brush with hers. How he'd longed for that contact as each day passed by. Ziva thanked him as she wrapped her hands around the warm mug, blowing the steam away in the process.

"How have you been?" Tony finally questioned.

"I have been good. I did some work to honour my father for a while and then I decided I needed a total new start. I took on some charity projects," she sighed. "I suppose you would call it a veiled attempt to make amends, trying to make me feel better about who I was."

"And did it?"

"No." Ziva responded honestly. "At least not to begin with. I was working with projects which gave too much back, I did not deserve the pride of doing good, so I started to pull away, to tackle projects that would go unnoticed to most eyes, but made a difference to those who needed it. I did not stick around to see that though."

"You know you never had to prove anything. You never had to make up for things; you were doing your job Ziva, that didn't make you a bad person." Tony had rationalised his arguments for her as the years had gone by; he still felt the same as he did they day they parted ways, to him, there wasn't a person who exuded more grace, more kindness than her. "You had orders-"

"I did not have to obey them." Ziva shook her head.

"Of course you did, we all know what would have happened if you hadn't. The job would have been done anyway; at least you got to ensure they were done in the best possible way."

"That does not make it any easier to accept."

"If the guy hitting the button on death row decides he doesn't want to end someone's life, if he changes his mind, does the inmate get a stay?" Tony offered. "No, because there would be someone else to do the job instead. Following orders does not make you a bad person. You are who you are inside, not what your actions dictate."

Before Ziva had the chance to say anything more she was distracted by a voice that came from nowhere, a voice so light, so free, a voice that sounded from his bedroom.

"Daddy?"

Ziva did little to hide the way her eyes widened as both of them turned from the couch to look at the doorway. She hadn't heard it open up but sure enough standing at the threshold was a tiny person, a little girl, a girl with long, unruly dirty blonde hair, straight near the top, save for wild frizzy curls near her temples, and then ringlets as her hair fell down her back. She stood in a pair of pink and white teddy bear pyjamas, a very well loved light grey stuffed elephant clutched by the ear in her tiny hand. She was him. In so many ways she was him. The long lashes, the green eyes, the cupid's bow lips; there was no denying who her father was. And yet, there was someone she didn't recognise mixed in with this little girl, the little girl who should have been theirs, the little girl who could have been theirs if she had stayed.

"What is it princess?" He asked rapidly pulling himself to his feet and moving around the couch to crouch before her.

"I had a bad dream." The girl whispered, her eyes drawn to Ziva.

"A bad dream huh?" Tony repeated, placing his hand on her shoulder. "What did daddy tell you about bad dreams?"

"That the fairies you put on the ceiling always chase them away." The girl replied as though she'd been told it a hundred times.

"That's right, sometimes they sneak in quick while the fairies aren't looking, but once they find them, do they ever come back?"

The girl shook her head with a grin. "Uh-uh."

"So what do you say we give the fairies a chance to do their job and go back to bed?" Tony suggested, standing up and lifting his daughter with one arm as she jumped towards him.

"Okay, but you need to tuck me back in again, for real, not like when you try to sneak off!" The girl was so precocious, she knew what she wanted, she was, in every way her father's daughter.

"You drive a hard bargain." He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "But I think we can manage it." He turned to Ziva and held up an outstretched hand. "Five minutes?" he mimed.

She nodded, understanding.

As Tony disappeared into his bedroom she quickly sipped at her drink, hoping the tea would calm her frantic nerves. As her eyes scanned the apartment, she didn't know how she'd missed it. There were children's DVDs stacked up next to the TV; there were drawings with an abundance of glitter splattered across them on the pin board; his goldfish had been replaced with a tiny cage featuring what appeared to be a slightly overfed fluff ball with a child's scrawl of "Cuddles" written with the "e" backwards underneath; those wooden boxes were, under closer inspection toy boxes, the name "Amelia" had been carved into one and an elaborate toy scene into the other, no doubt the work of Leroy Jethro Gibbs' hands. The more she paid attention, the more she saw, on the mantle sat four framed photographs, the first of the little girl alone dressed in a pink tutu and satin ballet shoes, the next of the two of them, Tony proudly holding the girl as a baby, she looked so tiny nestled into his chest while he looked down at her with nothing but love on his face. The third was of the whole team sitting around a table, Tony standing at the end with a huge smile as the little girl stared at the flickering glow of a lighted candle shaped like the number one, and the final picture was a simple black and white shot, it had to have been fairly recent, Tony sat in his desk chair, the little girl curled into his lap, a book opened in front of them, Tony's mouth open as he read, the girl's finger poking at the page where she followed along with his words. It was beautiful. A perfect moment captured forever on film; it was Abby's work she just knew it. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking, those butterflies were performing an Olympic gymnast routine in her stomach, there was a little girl, he _had_ a little girl, a child that was a part of him but also a part of some other woman, a woman who was always going to be a part of his life, a woman who was connected to him in more ways that she ever could be, and all the while she could hear that tiny voice in his room, talking away to her father.

"Now you have to sing the song, the daddy version, not the real one, I like yours bestest!" she proclaimed.

"Once. I'll do it once then you need to try and go to sleep." He warned.

"Deal."

"Hush little Amelia, don't say a word, daddy's gonna fry you a pancake bird, if that pancake bird gets burnt, daddy's gonna buy you toys with the money he's earned, and when daddy steps on the ones you left on the floor, he's a sucker who will go out and buy you more, and when you groan that it's time for bed, have sweet dreams about the time you shaved Uncle McGee's head!" Tony crooned.

The little girl giggled and clapped as Tony sang.

"Do another one daddy!"

"We had a deal."

The girl sighed.

"Who is that lady?" she questioned, wanting to prolong her time with her father.

"That's daddy's friend,"

"I never seed her before."

"She's a friend from a long time ago; she was… daddy's best friend." Tony thought back to those times that seemed a lifetime ago now, he had only good memories of her, until she was gone.

"What's she called?" The girl quizzed.

"Ziva."

"I'm-"

"Bed time Amelia." Tony cut her off.

"Fine." She sighed, scrunching herself down into the covers. "Goodnight daddy." She sighed deeply.

"Good night princess." Tony touched a kiss to her forehead and pulled the covers up before flicking the night light on and leaving the room, pulling his door closed behind him.

"Sorry about that I just-… Ziva?" Tony scanned the apartment, she was gone. "Ziva?" Her suitcase was missing too, her mug still more than half-filled sitting on the coffee table. He rushed to the door, swung it open and dashed into the hallway. "Ziva!" he called spotting her nearing the end of the hall. She didn't stop, she didn't turn. He ran after her, knowing nothing could happen to his daughter when he could see the door to his apartment from here. "Ziva, wait!" He touched his hand to her shoulder when he caught up with her, forcing her to stop and turn to look at him. "Where are you going?" He asked, slightly concerned that he was out of breath after such a short distance. He'd tell himself his heart was already racing from the shock of her turning up on his doorstep after all this time.

"I should not have come here. I am sorry." She apologised.

"Shouldn't have come? I couldn't be happier that you did!" Tony reassured.

"You have moved on, you did what I wanted you to, what I told you to. I have no right to come in and ruin that for you. To turn up after all this time and disrupt the life you have made for yourself. I gave up the opportunity I had to… to make a life with you; I will have to live knowing that was my mistake." She tried to pull away, to leave again, but Tony kept a firm grip on her. "Tony, let me go, you have something here that I cannot just walk into the middle of. You have the wife, the child, all you need is the white cricket fence and you have it all. I will not come between that." She found it hard to look him in the eyes, she didn't want him to see the hurt in hers, the way her heart ached that she had waited too long to return, that despite what she had said when she left, she had always believed when she returned they would just slot back together, the way soul mates were supposed to.

"No, you don't understand, it's not what you think… Look come back inside and let me explain… please… please?" The look in his eyes was one she recognised, it was the last look he had given her before he left her behind; a look of longing, of desperation, of love. Everything inside of her screamed that she should just leave, that she had ruined too many families though the work she had done before, she couldn't do that again. If it was anyone but Tony, she'd have listened to that voice, but he had a hold on her, stronger than anything she had ever felt before, she couldn't walk away from him again. She pursed her lips, inhaled deeply and followed him back to his apartment.

Tony held out his hand and gestured for her to sit on the couch again, but this time she chose the chair, she couldn't be as close to him as she was knowing there was a different woman he ought to be sharing his personal space with.

"I know I should have told you, I know that was the kind of news I should have written you about, but you have to understand, I sent you at least 300 messages and you didn't bother to reply to a single one." He sighed. "I was mad at you."

Ziva nodded, she understood.

"And then, as time went on and she got older I kind of figured it was too late, I mean what was I supposed to do, send you an e-mail saying, here's some pictures of a 4 year olds birthday party and by the way she's mine?!" Tony rubbed his hand across his eyes then slowly down to his chin. "I wish I had told you, I wish this wasn't just a huge bomb to drop on you-" he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. "Sorry, wrong turn of phrase."

Ziva shook her head and shrugged.

"You're wrong." He informed her. "I did exactly the opposite of what you asked me to do. I didn't try and move on, I didn't try to date or find love, I never married or sought out anything long term, didn't bother to find a new place to live… I was never a white _picket_, it's picket by the way, fence kinda guy."

He could see the cogs ticking over in her mind, the confusion in her eyes. It didn't make sense. He had a child, how could there not be a wife, or a girlfriend or at least somebody?

"Then how…?" Ziva indicated to his bedroom door.

"I was lonely." Tony admitted honestly. "I was angry. I tried to fix the hurt I still felt at you being gone with a series of meaningless encounters with women." He knew Ziva had an idea of his personality before he met her, he knew what she thought of him, and honestly it didn't bother him before, but for some reason, he now felt shame over his actions. Perhaps because he had grown up now, he had another life to account for, a daughter he put all of his attention into, a child he was going to raise right, someone who was going to look up to him. "I was heading out to work one morning when this woman appears outside the building. She was all flustered and ranting. Looked like she hadn't slept in a couple days, and I recognised her, you know? Her face looked kinda familiar but I couldn't place why I knew her. Anyways, she handed me the baby carrier, just thrust it right at me and says "she's yours, I can't do it, _you_ take care of her." And that was it. She took off running, leaving me standing with this baby in total shock."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." Tony repeated. "So I'm stunned, of course, I drag the kid into work and try to figure out what to do. I didn't know the first thing about raising a kid, let alone a damn baby, I have nothing ready at my apartment, I didn't even know if the kid had a name!" Tony ran his hand through his hair recalling that day. "It was a one night stand. That was it. I used the databases to track down the woman, she'd left the state, took me a couple months to contact her and when I did she said she wanted to pretend like it never happened, told me if I wanted her to legally sign away her rights she would, she didn't want the baby and she wanted no reminders of me. I'd literally been in this whole limbo place since she dropped the girl off. She was mine but she wasn't mine you know? And now that was it, I had my answer. She wasn't coming back and I had this girl whether I wanted her or not." Tony looked around his apartment, his eyes settling on the things that had changed since his daughter came into his life. "I thought for about a second about having her adopted." He spoke it in a hushed tone, as though ashamed. "But I just couldn't do it. That baby had held my finger while she slept, she stared at me while I gave her a bottle, she smiled at me as she drifted into sleep; she was helpless and dependent on me and I was the only parent she knew."

"So you became her father." Ziva stated.

"I became her father." Tony nodded. "Would you ever believe it? Me? A dad?" He laughed.

She smiled. She did believe it. She had always thought he would make an excellent father. He was every bit the child himself, and yet he knew when he needed to be mature, he knew when situations called for seriousness and he could handle that.

"Of course, I had a little help." He continued. "Gibbs put together so many beautiful pieces of furniture, including this amazing oak carved crib, and Jimmy helped me with toys and books and nursery decorations, which pretty much overtook my entire bedroom! He did some baby proofing, a lot of baby proofing, he's got three of his own now."

Tony watched as Ziva's eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face in delight for her colleague. But he continued his story before she had a chance to speak. "You know McGee is surprisingly good with babies, he's got this like… baby sense… he just knows what they want and he could get her to stop crying like that!" he clicked his fingers. "Abby and Ducky, before he retired, were always on hand for day time babysitting so I could keep on working, and Bishop helped me pick out some clothes. I wouldn't have gotten through that first year without them." He explained.

She felt a pang of guilt. She wasn't exactly McGee's baby whisperer status but she could have been his shoulder to lean on, she was reliable and patient, she could have gotten stuck in, tried to make it easier on him, but instead she was across the globe on a mission that even she didn't fully understand.

"It sounds like everyone really looked out for you." She commented.

"They're my team." He agreed. "They had my back." A beat of silence passed. "I know you would have too, if you'd been here." How he wished she had been. Those nights, those sleepless nights, all he had done was wished that he had fought harder, convinced her to return to D.C. with him, or even stayed behind in Israel with her… it wouldn't have happened if she'd been around.

"I am sorry I was not."

Tony shook his head.

"For the longest time, I wished you had been here, I wished we had been together, but then I realised that would mean I wouldn't have her." He touched his hand to his chest. "She is my life. Amelia is my light in the dark, when everything else sucks, when we take on a case that's sick and twisted and just depraved, I come home and I look at that face, that innocence and everything is okay again."

A few more seconds of silence passed by before Tony licked his lips.

"You know, uh, after you l-" he couldn't say it again, he'd said the words too many times tonight, this wasn't about guilt tripping her, it wasn't about making her feel bad for making a mistake, her leaving hadn't been a mistake, he understood that now, she had done it because it was what she _needed_ but she didn't need that anymore. "With you gone, everything seemed really hard. Every day seemed to pass by without anything really happening, so I started to pour everything I had into work. I'd arrive early, go home late, I gave my very best to every case, but you can only pour away so much of yourself before you start to become empty. I kept asking myself why? Why did I feel so empty? And then Amelia happened. And the emptiness started to fade. There was a little space in my life that started to fill back up again; the void was slowly disappearing with each day I spent with her. Each smile, each laugh, each step, they all added more and more until there was practically nothing left to fill."

"I am happy for you Tony." And it was true. She was.

"But," he added before she had time to consider how much her heart ached that he still had all that compassion inside of him when she knew that deep down she had essentially ruined him by leaving. "There's still a part of me that's missing, a part that's empty… you could fill it… if… if you wanted to?" And there he was, putting himself on the line once again. For a man as carefree and immature as he often presented himself, he loved deeply and he was not afraid to bare his soul for another to see.

The words seemed to echo around the room for a moment before he realised what he had said.

"Oh, geez, I…I'm sorry, that was really presumptuous of me, do you… are you involved?" he asked, he presented the words with confidence, just another question, but internally every word was laced with hesitancy, she couldn't say yes, she just couldn't.

"No, I am not." She affirmed.

"Oh well I-"

"I was." She added voluntarily. There was a small part of her that thought she did it to gloat, to prove that she had not spent the last ten years wandering no man's land all alone in search of her waning soul, but a larger part knew she was telling him because honesty was more important now than ever. "He was a good man. Liran was his name. He was a dentist and probably the most unassuming and ordinary man I have ever met." Ziva smiled at the memory. "We met by accident, we both reached for the same item in the grocery store."

"A little love over the vegetables!" Tony joked.

"Actually it was toothpaste."

"A dentist doesn't get free toothpaste? Now I know there's something wrong in the world." Tony huffed.

"Actually he got a lot of free toothpaste, turns out there was only one brand he liked! I let him have it, it was the last one, and in return he took me for coffee. We got to talking and things kind of went from there." She sighed. "I was never looking to meet someone. I did not think love was going to be a part of my life, not after… well, not once I said goodbye to you."

Tony silently nodded in understanding.

"So you did love him?" He questioned.

"Yes, I did love him, very much in fact."

"Then what happened?" Tony wondered aloud.

Ziva took a sip from her now cold mug of peppermint tea; she left the water in her mouth for a few moments too long, as though trying to improve the flavour on her pallet. She swallowed the tea and set her mug down again, placing her hands in her lap and fumbling her fingers over one another.

"He asked me to marry him." Ziva confided, she looked over at Tony and saw how he tried with little success to hide the look of shock and confusion on his face. "I never saw myself getting married," she continued to explain. "Before, I blamed my job, it was not exactly conducive to a good relationship, but then when I was free, I thought about it, I had the time to give, I had feelings… but I did not have the person I wanted. When he asked me, I knew right away that it was not right, but I told him I would think about it. That night, I had a dream, I was wearing the gown, walking down the aisle, I had my arm linked through a man's but I could not see his face. There was my groom, he was waiting for me at the end next to the alter, he had on a beautifully tailored suit and his shoes were the shiniest I had ever seen!" she laughed, drawing a chuckle from Tony, who knew her dreams would be so detailed. "But when he turned around, it was not Liran standing there." She stared at him with intense eyes, everything inside of her screamed out for him to kiss her, like that would make everything okay, like it would bring back the last ten years and cement them in a relationship that everyone knew was right. Tony closed his eyes and inhaled deeply; he opened them again and reached out for her hand.

"Ten years…" he whispered.

"I know. And I am sorry." She could feel her eyes welling up, tears were not something that flowed easily, they were not an emotion that it was okay to show, but with him, it had never been that way, she could be vulnerable, she could make mistakes and he would love her all the same.

"No." he stopped her, wrapping his fingers over hers and leaning his face just a little closer. "It took me a long time to understand it, maybe I didn't fully get it until Amelia came along, but I get it now. What you did… walking away… I spent so long thinking that it was because I couldn't be enough for you, that if maybe I'd done something different, said something different, stopped something from happening, that it might have turned out another way. But then, after I spoke to Amelia's mother, I was sitting up that night, cradling her as she slept in my arms, I was looking at that tiny, perfect face and thinking how does anyone walk away from that? That was when I figured out that it wasn't about being selfish, it was about being self_less_. You walked away from me because you loved me in a way that was pure and kind and beautiful, but it wasn't right. _I _wasn't right. At least not then. You left because you needed something that you couldn't get here, you could have stayed because you loved me, and as much as that would have meant to me, it would eventually have driven us apart. You'd have resented me, or we'd have grown apart, inevitably I would have gone out and done something with some other woman I'd spend the rest of my life regretting and everything would have been screwed up." He tapped his finger to her cheek and smiled. "You wouldn't let that happen, you walked away because you knew it was right. I know how much it hurt me and I _know_ that it hurt you too, but I had my family around me, the team, you walked away with nothing… you don't have to be sorry for being a stronger person."

A tear finally broke free and careered down her cheek until it made contact with his finger.

"I thought about you every day." She confessed a smile on her lips and more tears brimmed over her eyes lids.

"I did too." He admitted with a nod, leaning forward and pressing his warm lips to her forehead. "But it's not too late; we don't have to be done."

"We lost ten years." She reminded him.

"And when we have spent another forty together that will be like pocket change. Time doesn't always have to be about the number of years you get, it's about what you do with them, what you put into them, if I knew now I could only have one more year with you, I'd take it because I would make that the best year, we could make it the best year."

"You would let me back into your life that easily?" For Ziva, life had been about second guessing the motives of others, and Tony, despite having spent a huge number of years in a job that prompted him to do the same, he was not jaded enough by the actions of the few to let it mar his beliefs about the many.

"Always." He whispered. "I mean, obviously there are things to figure out, I sleep right there in your chair since my bedroom was taken over!" he laughed, pleased that it brought out a smile on her face.

"You did not think that was reason enough to find a new apartment?" she laughed lightly.

"Honestly?" he spoke. "I fell asleep in the damn thing so much it seemed to make sense to just hand over my room." He took a breath and his tone returned to serious. "Plus, I needed to make sure you could find me, if you ever came back."

She bowed her head a little.

"Listen, obviously things are a little more complicated now than they were before. You'll have to meet Amelia – properly," he smiled. "But, she'll love you, she loves meeting new people, she'll totally interrogate you, but you should be okay with that."

She nodded with a smile.

"I want this to work out Ziva; this is all I've ever wanted."

Ziva stood from the chair she was sitting in, forcing Tony to his feet too.

"Please don't say you're leaving." He spoke. "I know this is kind of full on but, you came to me, you told me you were home and I just thought-"

"You were right." She assured him. "I am home, and I do want this, you."

"Then where are you going?" He asked.

She smiled.

"I was going to come back and share the couch."

Tony shook his head and rubbed his eyes in relief.

"Oh, well then here, there's plenty of space." He sat back down with his hand extended.

"I do not need any more space." She whispered, settling herself next to him, pressing her body into his as he wrapped his arm around her and rested his chin on the crown of her head. He slowly breathed in her scent, closing his eyes and remembering moments they had shared like this before, so few and far between. But those days were gone. They were older, more mature. They'd been together and they'd been apart and somehow they had been connected throughout it all. As Ziva fell into a gentle sleep against him, he thought back to a story he heard, a myth about soul mates, how once upon a time they had been joined forever, only to be separated for fear that they were too powerful as one union. The two entities were doomed to troll the Earth seeking out the other part of them that had been lost, never knowing who they were truly looking for. If that story were true, he had no doubts that Ziva was his soul mate; right from the start she had always known him better than he had known himself, even with her absence she had come back and things felt as good as they did ten years ago. That didn't happen with just anyone. He'd always known Amelia would need a mother someday; he knew how Ziva felt about children and yet deep down he had wished she would be the one to muddle through parenthood with him. It was early days now, very early days, but he had a good feeling, a feeling Gibbs would have told him to follow. She was sticking around this time, for good, and they'd be okay, they'd make it, because they'd trolled the Earth, looked for something better and still come back to where they started. Their story had started, seemingly come to an end, only to turn out it was ready for a new chapter to begin. Their story was unfinished, and now they had the chance to make the ending they should have had ten years ago. If there was a better example of soul mates than that, he'd gladly challenge anyone to find it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_First and foremost, I would like to say a very grateful thankyou to everyone who took the time to read my story, let alone favourite and review it. It means the world to me to know that people have enjoyed my writing and to take the time to leave your thoughts and comments is very kind of you._

I had initially only planned for this to be a one-shot, but as so many people expressed an interest in wanting to read more, I thought I'd explore the idea a little deeper. I have written a scene for Ziva's first proper meeting with Amelia and hope to work on what will happen when she is finally reunited with the rest of the NCIS team.  


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It had been a little over a week since she'd turned up at his apartment. She had so badly wanted to stay that night when he asked her to, but she had declined, she wouldn't want Amelia to wake up with a strange woman in her house and little explanation about why that might be. No, instead she had checked herself into a motel nearby. It wasn't exactly glamourous, but then she had never been a girl to demand luxury. There was a bed and a TV, it had a shower and was clean enough, that was all she really needed right now. She'd not seen Tony since that night, save for the dinner they'd shared three nights ago when Amelia was sleeping. It struck her how much she missed him now that he was closer than he'd been in a long time; the heart had a way of telling you what it wanted and with the distance between them, she'd been able to quieten its call. But now he was barely a mile away and the screaming was growing so loud it threatened to destroy her in the long nights. She'd started to sleep with the TV on, just to give her something to cover the thoughts that poured through her mind. There was so much she had to do. So many loose ends she needed to tie up. First and foremost there was her family; her team. She needed to see them, to apologise for leaving with no warning, to make up for her total isolation from them for all those years, to find out about their lives and what she had missed. And yet, that was one of those tasks that as much as she longed to see everyone, she also dreaded it. Some people would be glad to see her, McGee, Jimmy, Ducky even, but Gibbs and Abby she worried would be harder to win over. But those were jobs for later, she'd work up the courage, she promised herself she'd go this week, she practically had to beg Tony not to tell them she was back yet, she wouldn't have them thinking she didn't _want_ to come by and visit, the truth was far from it, she just needed time; sometimes 10 years wasn't enough.

She had browsed the real estate markets looking for a potential apartment to rent. She had enough in savings to buy a place of her own if she wanted, but things with Tony were going well. They spoke every night for hours on the phone, they had so much lost time to make up for and yet their conversations were not fixated in the past, but instead thinking about the here and now, the present and even the future. She dared to hope that perhaps they might be able to get a place together, it was the only thing preventing her from looking at places to buy; but she was a realist, relationships were never that easy. You could not walk back into the life of someone you left behind years ago and expect to pick things up without a hiccup. They'd need some time together first. And more importantly, there was another part to their equation now.

Ziva tied a red ribbon around the neck of a stuffed animal she'd bought at the store last night. She placed it in a bag atop an exquisitely wrapped box; work she could not take credit for, she was so very grateful for gift wrap services; and then she stuffed her cheap drug store bought disposable cell into her pocket, grabbed the motel room key from the bed and set out into the D.C. sunshine. Today was an important day and for some reason she felt more nervous than she could ever recall feeling before. Her heart rate was already spiking and she hadn't even made it out of the motel parking lot. She had nervously agreed to meet Tony at the park today so she could finally be introduced to Amelia. She didn't have a lot of experience with children, Liran had always told her they were nothing to fear, he had nine nieces and nephews and she had been to birthday parties and family gatherings with him but the children had never exactly warmed to her. She needed to make an impression on Amelia but she feared that she could easily make the wrong kind of impression and blow her chances altogether. Tony had reassured her that Amelia was the most open minded kid he knew, but last time she checked, Tony didn't know a lot of kids.

Ziva recalled the route to the park from memory; it hadn't been all that far from her old apartment, on occasion she'd been running through it early morning or late at night; it always struck her how eerie it was to see all the play equipment without any children using it. Parks were loud, happy, filled with the sounds of laughter and joy, but first thing in the morning or last thing at night there was nothing but empty silence. As she drew closer to the park she could already hear the squeals of delight from the children, she could see the tiny dots darting across the grass or up and down the equipment; it was a nice contrast to her memories of the place.

She crossed through the gate, stepping onto the spongy grass underfoot. She could already see Tony standing by the side of the rubber floor as Amelia threw herself fearlessly down the slide. Her heart fluttered as she set eyes on him; he looked _happy_, it was the only word for it. The smile on his face, the way his shoulders were pushed back, the way he stood, his body language relaxed and open; he was carefree and at ease with himself. He turned as though he sensed her approaching and shot her a wide grin and a wave. She returned the gesture and approached the bench at the edge of the play equipment, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"You made it." Tony greeted her, walking over and standing beside her. He so badly wanted to throw his arms around her, to brush a wisp of hair from her face to behind her ear and press a stolen kiss to her cheek. But he couldn't do that. They hadn't spoken yet about how things were going to proceed, they both knew what they wanted, and they knew they were now in the same place emotionally, but they also knew so much depended on how Amelia felt about the two of them; today was hopefully going to be day one of the rest of their lives.

"Yes, I uh, I brought something for Amelia." Ziva indicated to the bag she had placed on the bench. "I do not know what children like, I hope it is good."

"That's sweet; you didn't need to get her anything." Tony commented.

"Well she might not like it."

"Trust me, she will love it, kids love presents, any kind of presents, except maybe clothes!" he laughed. "You could get her the best present in the world and she would probably have more fun with the box!"

Ziva raised an eyebrow.

"I thought that was puppies?"

"Kids aren't that different." Tony smiled. "Last week, she spent an hour running around the hallway of my apartment with a balloon. It was nothing fancy, literally a party favour balloon; you'd think she was at Disneyland the sounds coming out of her!"

"Perhaps I should have bought the 24 pack of bubbles." Ziva pondered aloud.

At that moment that little voice from the apartment sounded; more shrill this time, less delicate without the dulcet tones of sleep reflected within. Like a whirlwind, the girl bounded over to Tony, her hair bouncing behind her, secured loosely in a ponytail, those wild frizzy curls ballooning out at her temples. She was dressed in what Ziva thought was the tiniest pair of jeans she'd ever seen and a t-shirt with a kitten on the front.

"Daddy, did you see it?! Did you see?" She squealed in delight.

"Yeah I saw, it was amazing!" Tony reeled off too enthusiastically. Ziva eyed him suppressing the smile that threatened to reveal his lie; he never had been a good liar.

Amelia pursed her lips and crossed her arms in front of her.

"No you didn't." she huffed. "You were too busy talking."

That stirred a laugh from Ziva; if this was Amelia now, she dreaded to think what she'd be like in another ten years!

"Sorry kiddo." Tony smiled. "But I was talking to someone I wanted you to meet." He informed her, placing a hand on Ziva's shoulder. "This is-"

"The lady from the other night." Amelia finished.

"That's right." Tony reassured. "Ziva. She's daddy's-"

"Your best friend." Amelia completed staring up at the former agent in front of her. "My best friend is called Joey. He's a boy too. Daddy said it's okay to have boys who are friends but not boyfriends."

"He did, did he?" Ziva winked at Tony but took a seat on the bench so she was closer to eye level with Amelia who was nodding. "Well your daddy is right; there is plenty of time to have boyfriends when you get older."

"Uh-huh, when I'm forty daddy says." Amelia placed one tiny hand on the bench and jumped, pushing herself onto the wood beside Ziva. She managed to perch on the edge as Tony grabbed her and slid her a little further back so her legs swung in the air. Ziva giggled at the little girls' innocence. "I never meeted a person called Ziva before." Amelia pondered; she looked at Ziva and tilted her head to one side. "I like your hair." Being back in D.C. had brought back a lot of habits, Ziva had woken that morning and French braided her hair just the way she used to do when they had a crime scene to work.

"Thank you. Yours is very pretty too." Ziva complimented.

Amelia sighed. "It's prettier when Uncle McGee fixes it. Daddy can't do braids, only ponytails."

"Uncle McGee?" Ziva raised her eyebrows, shocked.

"I know, I ribbed him about that for months!" Tony jibed.

"Maybe you can teach daddy," Amelia continued, seemingly unconcerned at the conversation going on over her head. "Uncle McGee tried but daddy told him he wasn't a good teacher and pinged some of my hair ties at him!"

Ziva laughed. "Perhaps I can try." Ziva began to feel more at ease, talking to children wasn't as hard as she had imagined, this meeting so far, in her opinion, was going pretty well.

"What's in the bag?" Amelia asked with tenacity.

"Amelia!" Tony scolded.

"I was just asking!"

"It is okay, actually it is for you." Ziva offered over the bag and watched as Amelia delved her tiny hands into it with glee. Tony opened his mouth to remind his daughter that she needed to say thank you when someone gave her a gift but a melodic "Thanks!" sounded before he had the chance; manners had been one of his only real goals when it came to parenting, that and not leaving her at the store.

Amelia pulled out the stuffed elephant and quickly pulled it into her chest, closing her eyes as she hugged it.

"He's like Mr Snuffles!" she beamed.

"Yes I saw your um.. Mr… Snuffles the other day, I thought he might… um, get lonely when you are not there?" Ziva was impressed that she could come up with such a good story off the top of her head, and even more impressed that Amelia seemed so excited about the idea.

"I never thinked of that! Now he will have a friend!" she rotated her waist as she cuddled the elephant. "What do you think he she be called?" Amelia looked at Ziva with expectant eyes. Ziva widened hers and looked at Tony for reassurance. Tony gave a simple shrug and a smile.

"Uh…" Ziva searched her mind for a name, any name but she was drawing a blank. "Mr… Gibbs… son… Mr Gibson?" she suggested. The utter silence and deadpan face of the little girl before her suggested that Amelia was not overly impressed by her lack of creativity.

"Mr Gibson?" Amelia repeated as though testing the sound of the name on her tongue. "I love it!" She exclaimed.

"Oh, well I am pleased." Ziva breathed a sigh of relief, she thought she was becoming more at ease with Amelia, but the more questions that came her way the more she was starting to think having a child would mean you constantly lived life on the edge, never knowing when there'd be a question thrown at you that you couldn't answer or a situation that you couldn't make better with a toy and a hug.

"You talk different." Amelia noted. "I never met someone who talked like you."

Ziva smiled and pulled the wrapped box out of the bag, handing it over to Amelia.

"I was born in Israel," she explained, watching as Amelia tore into the paper and ripped the lid off the box in one seemingly fluid motion. Inside sat a mounted globe, similar to one her father had given to her as a child when he explained that she'd one day get to go on many adventures and visit many of the wondrous sights that each country held. She'd sit at night tracing her fingers across the different continents, marvelling at the fun that waited in her future. If only she'd known then that her future wouldn't have been nearly as fun or lonely as her father had painted. Ziva lifted the globe, removed the box and handed it back to Amelia, who scooted across the park bench so she could sit closer to Ziva. "You live here," Ziva explained, pointing to the United States, and I was born in Israel which is all the way over here." She spun the globe and placed her finger on Israel.

"Wow. That's far!" Amelia gasped. Tony looked over at his daughter with a smile on his face. She was at ease with Ziva, her closeness said it all; aside from Abby and Bishop, her contact with women had been pretty minimal, he'd always wondered how she might react if he ever found someone he could feel serious about. In the depths of his mind he had dreamed it to be Ziva, but never had he actually imagined it would come true. "Have you been to many other places on here?" Amelia asked with intrigue.

"Yes, many. In fact your daddy and I went here… Berlin." She pointed.

Amelia looked at her father as if looking for verification. Tony nodded.

"It was a nice place, great for dancing." He winked at Ziva who couldn't supress the smile on her face.

"Is Heaven on here?" Amelia spun the globe enthusiastically as though looking for a place that would somehow obviously declare itself as Heaven to her.

Ziva hesitated but Amelia spoke again before she could comment.

"Grandma DiNozzo is in Heaven." She explained. "And Uncle McGee's dog." Amelia sighed. "I liked him, but I never saw Grandma DiNozzo. Do you know anyone in Heaven?"

"Yes." Ziva nodded, a hint of sadness to her tone. She wondered if Heaven were to be included on a globe, where would it sit? At the top? The bottom? Somewhere in the middle? She pondered how much help it would be for parents if Heaven had been included on a globe, a way to explain to children the concept of death, but then you had to explain how you could visit all the other places but not Heaven… parenting was hard, having to answer the tough questions that you couldn't understand yourself was a near impossible job. She guessed it would need a lot of compassion and a dash of imagination, but when you really boiled it down, it was just a glorified way of lying; albeit to protect someone who mattered. "You know," she began, not really thinking through her words, just letting them form as they spilled over her lips. "Someone I knew went to Heaven when I was quite young; I spent a lot of time wishing I could see them,"

"But you can't go to Heaven." Amelia explained.

"No, you are right, but, you can always remember them, and I think, when you do that, it is like you can go to Heaven, because you keep a person alive in here," she pointed to her chest. "And then they are always with you."

Amelia seemed to think about that for a moment, her little eyebrows furrowing as she chewed the inside of her cheek before nodding. For a young girl she had some pretty philosophical thoughts; or maybe it was just the regular inquisitiveness of a child.

"If you're daddy's best friend," Amelia pondered. "How come you never came to see us before?"

Now that was a question. A question with a thousand possible answers, none of which could be explained in a way a child could understand. None of which could be articulated in a way she understood. Tony closed his eyes and breathed a silent sigh, he ought to step in a field this question, but he was struggling to come up with an answer himself.

"I just… I had to go away for a little while. It does not mean I did not care about your daddy." Ziva offered.

Amelia looked up at Ziva, her eyes wide, her perfect cupid's bow lips parted ever so slightly.

"My mommy had to go away for a little while," she said, her tone barely above a whisper. "Are you her?"

Ziva felt her heart stop. At least it seemed like it did before she was sure her heart could be seen pulsing in her chest it was beating so hard. She felt a little short on breath, Amelia should have been hers, she could have been hers, but she wasn't and nothing she said or did could change that.

"No sweetheart, I am not her." Ziva clarified, resting her hand over Amelia's as she gently rocked the globe back and forth.

"I didn't think you were." Amelia chirped, her tone no longer serious. "I just wanted to check. See, Joey has the same hair colour as his daddy; my hair isn't the same as yours so you couldn't really be my mommy." Amelia explained as though it was the most flawless logic on Earth.

A beat of silence passed while Amelia swung her legs as though chewing over all the information she had just gotten from her talk.

"Daddy?" she said, leaning her head back to look at her father behind her. "Can you hold this?" she held up the globe and passed it over her head. "And watch out for Mr Gibson, I'm going to go on the swings."

"Alright, but be careful." Tony warned as Amelia fearlessly pushed herself forwards off the bench to the ground below.

"I will be." She called back, taking off at a run.

Ziva turned back to look at Tony as he set the globe on the bench in front of him.

"Well I think you handled that well." He smiled, walking around the bench and taking a seat.

"She is very inquisitive, smart too." Ziva commented.

"Oh yeah, she knows her own mind, and if she doesn't believe what you have to say, she'll call you out on it, so you did a good job!"

Ziva took a few breaths as she scanned the playground of happy children, almost every one of them with their mothers.

"How much does she know about her mom?" Ziva asked.

"About as much as I do." Tony replied honestly. "I told her she had to go away for a while and I didn't know when or if she'd be back."

Ziva nodded. She couldn't understand the pain Tony must have faced when his child first asked about her mother. The pain still to come as she grew up and saw other children with their moms, her friends, her peers; as she started to change and had only her father to turn to with female problems, if these things were already occurring to her, they had to be eating Tony up every day.

"Come on!" Amelia shouted, running back to the bench. She grabbed hold of Ziva's hand and gave it a tug. "You're supposed to come over and push me!" Amelia giggled as Ziva stood and she dragged her across the playground to the swing set.

Tony sat back with his hands behind his head relaxed in the knowledge that his two girls seemed to be content in each other's' company. Things between Ziva and him were never going to move at as quick a pace as he would have liked, not when he had another person's interests to look out for, but at least for now, they seemed to be moving in the right direction.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N:_ **_Once again, thank you to everyone for reading my story, it really does mean a lot! This is kind of a short filler chapter, I haven't quiet managed to get the next part the way I want it to be so I have uploaded what has gone okay and will continue to work on the rest and hope for the best!_

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The day had passed by in an exhaustive blur. Amelia was constantly active, she had so many questions to ask, comments to make, so many thought trails that she needed to follow that every moment was like living inside the eye of a hurricane. And yet, Ziva was surprised at just how much she had enjoyed the day. After the park Tony had suggested they go for ice cream, by the time Amelia had dropped half of the chocolate sauce from her sundae down her t-shirt, it was time to return home for a change of clothes. Amelia had insisted on showing Ziva all of her stuffed animals and described in great detail their names, lifestyles and entire biography. It appeared the lives of four year olds toys could rival those of a day time soap opera. Once that introduction had been made Amelia was hungry and Tony invited Ziva out to dinner. They'd visited a local diner, somewhere relaxed and calm, a place with crayons for Amelia and a pretty decent menu. The meal had been great, the conversation had been better. Ziva watched as Tony carefully cut Amelia's chicken fingers for her without taking his eyes off of her as she spoke; it was impressive how easily this father role seemed to suit him. Once the food had been consumed Amelia's eyelids were drawing heavy and the trio set off back to Tony's apartment.

"Ziva can tell me a story…" Amelia spoke sleepily as Tony helped her to undress and settle into her pyjamas.

"Sweetie I think you tired Ziva out enough today, maybe another time." Tony suggested, putting the girl into bed and handing her the warn elephant toy.

"I need Mr Gibson too!" She protested.

Ziva dug the new elephant from the bag that they'd left on the couch before heading to the diner and stepped through the threshold to Tony's old room. It had been a long time since she'd been in here. She'd never forget his generosity when he let her stay, as much as she hadn't wanted it at the time, his actions had meant a lot to her. She noted how little the room had changed, the décor was still the same, the furnishings still sat where they always had; he still had a freshly pressed suit hanging on the outside of his wardrobe ready for the new day, but there were now toys sitting alongside his things. A pony collection sat on top of his chest of drawers, a host of children's story books lined a shelf that used to contain overflow DVDs and his bedspread was now a dusty pink with purple butterflies printed all across it.

"Are you too tired to tell me a story Ziva?" Amelia asked.

"Well I suppose I could-"

"You really don't have to." Tony reassured her.

"It is okay," she reached to the book shelf and grabbed the first book awaiting her.

"No, I know all of those; you have to make one up." Amelia explained.

"Right, of course…" There was no backing out now, she'd agreed to do it when she thought story telling was a simple task, she should have taken her out when Tony gave it to her. "Okay, let me see…" she bought herself a few extra precious seconds of thinking time as she perched herself on the end of the bed and smoothed out a few wrinkles.

"Once upon a time," Amelia encouraged. "They always start with once upon a time." The little girl grinned as she nestled her head into the pillow and aligned the two elephants, one either side of her, to hear the story.

"Amelia." Tony spoke, his voice a light-hearted warning.

"I'm just helping her start!" she countered.

Tony rolled his eyes, kissed his daughter on the forehead and left the room, knowing Ziva would probably feel more at ease without him there. He stood just outside the doorway of the room, curious as to what kind of story she might tell.

"Once upon a time," Ziva smiled. "There was a girl,"

"Was she a princess?" Amelia interrupted.

"Sure." Ziva nodded. "She was a princess. And she lived in a castle a long way away. Her father, the, uh, the king, was a firm man, he wanted the princess to do lots of things and one day he sent her on an aeroplane across lots of seas until she reached a new place, a place she had never been before. When she got there, she met this boy,"

"A prince?"

"Yes." Ziva smiled. "A prince. But he did not know he was a prince."

"How come?" Amelia quizzed, sitting up a little, enthralled by the story already.

"Because not all princes wear a crown." Ziva explained. Amelia pursed her lips as she pondered this. "Anyway, the prince, he did not like the princess at first, he had lost something and he thought the princess was part of the reason for that. He was mad at the princess, and when he found out she was going to be sticking around, he was angry at the other people in the… uh, kingdom." Ziva looked at the wonder on Amelia's face. "But the more he got to know the princess, the more he started to see that she was not the bad person he thought she was. The prince spent lots of time with the princess; they started to do things together, mostly work things and then things away from their kingdom. They ate dinner together and they went dancing, the prince even protected the princess from people she did not know were dangerous when she made friends with them-"

"And they fell in love?" Amelia posed, the way she phrased it was more of a statement, the prince and the princess always fell in love, they always ended up happy, that was the way stories went and at four years old, that was very much the way the world worked. If only it were that simple.

"They did. Thought not at first, it took a long time for them to realise. Sometimes the prince would love the princess but she did not love him back, this made the prince angry. Then the princess would love the prince but he would have someone else special in his life, that was even harder for the princess, she felt like she had missed her chance to be happy with a prince, but, after lots of time they finally realised that they loved each other."

"So did they get married?" Amelia asked with a yawn, beginning to lie back against the pillow again.

"Not right away, in fact, the princess, she got a bit scared because the prince loved her so much, she did not think she deserved all the love he wanted to give her, so she went away for a little while." Ziva stopped for a moment, taking a breath before she continued the story. "But she was lucky, because the prince waited for her, and when she did come back, it was like she had never been gone."

"And they got to live happily ever after in the end." Amelia offered, her eyelids drooping as she spoke.

"What do you think?"

"Yeah." Amelia grinned. "I think they got married and lived in a castle forever."

Amelia yawned. "I liked that story." She whispered as she closed her eyes and pressed her head deeper into the pillow.

"Me too." Ziva whispered back. "Good night Amelia."

Ziva carefully pushed herself from the bed and walked towards the door.

"Ziva?" Amelia's voice sounded, a little brighter than it had just been. Ziva turned and looked at the bright eyes peeking out from the covers. "The thing the prince lost in the beginning, did he find it again?"

"Sort of." Ziva replied. "It was a little different to the thing he had first, but he liked the new one all the same."

"Well that's good." Amelia seemed satisfied and closed her eyes, turning on to her side, still clutching an elephant in each arm.

As Ziva approached the doorway, Tony knew he should pretend that he hadn't been listening, but he also knew Ziva would be able to tell that he had lied about it. As she stepped over the threshold, he leant his head forward from the wall and looked at Ziva with wide eyes.

"You weave a good yarn Miss David." He spoke. "But you got a couple of things wrong."

Ziva did little to stifle the laugh that escaped her lips.

"Oh really? And how would you know? It was _my_ story."

Tony stepped closer to Ziva, his body not touching hers but the heat between them radiating enough to make the situation equally uncomfortable and unbelievably desirable at the same time. His eyes fixed on hers, his fingers itching to reach out and touch her. He leant his face closer still, close enough to feel her breathing against his skin.

"Because," his voice was soft, low. "In the real version of that story, the prince always loved the princess, even when she thought he didn't."

He felt his heart rate increase at the coy smile on her face and as her pinkie flexed forward and brushed against his, he couldn't help himself, he ran his fingers up her arm and leant in, his eyes closed, gently touching his lips to hers. No sooner had he made contact with her did he feel the jolt of electricity course through him; just like the first time they kissed. He'd felt it years ago when they were undercover, but it wasn't like it was now. Now was like that last kiss, the one in Israel, it started slow and then deepened with desire and passion, she was kissing him back, his lips numbing with force at which their mouths were crashing together. It was delicate and erratic, years of pent up longing and emotion pulsed through them both. He became aware of her hands tracing across his chest as he moved his into her soft hair, loosening the pins she'd put in place to secure it. As her hair cascaded down her back he brushed his thumb across her cheek.

"I've missed you…" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And I you." She returned, pressing her forehead against his as he began rubbing circles over her back. She had settled her thumbs into the belt loops at the back of his pants and was enjoying feeling his heavy breath echoing her own, knowing the effect he had on her was mirrored by the one she had on him. "I should go." She spoke after a few minutes, her head making a decision her heart and body so badly wanted to reject. She felt his body drop beneath her touch.

"You don't have to, you can stay, I only have the couch but it's comfy enough." There was a longing to his tone that he was not ashamed to hear, each time he hung up the phone to her, each time they said goodbye, he feared she could take off again, leave, just like that. He wasn't ready to take that chance yet. "I can make breakfast in the morning, I make a half way decent waffle." He smiled.

Ziva shook her head with a smile.

"That sounds lovely, but it would not be fair of me to stay."

"Fair on who?"

Ziva raised an eyebrow.

"She's asleep, besides, she really likes you."

"She does not know me Tony."

"Kids are like rescue dogs, they can sniff out when you're a good person." Tony explained.

"There will be other nights, just not this one." Ziva explained, hoping the way her heart sunk was not reflected in the look on her face.

Tony breathed a heavy sigh and ran his hand over his hair.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped the mark, I just… God I missed you."

"You have never overstepped the mark." She touched her hand to his forearm; she meant it. In all the time she had known him, everything he did had been in her best interests; she might not have seen that at the time, he was filled with such bravado that made him appear to be self-centred, but the more she came to reflect, to understand him, the more she realised that everything he did was to look out for her, it always had been . "It is just… too soon."

Tony nodded his head; as much as he hated to admit it, she had a point, but he wished more than anything it wasn't true.

"I am going to go to NCIS tomorrow." Ziva spoke, heading towards the door. "Would you sign me in as your guest?" she asked.

"Of course, I'll swing by and pick you up in the morning if you like?" Tony offered.

"That would be nice." She twisted the doorknob and stepped back out into the well illuminated hallway. "Today was…"

"Yeah, I feel the same." Tony grinned. He leant forward and pressed a kiss, this time to her cheek, gentle and filled with adoration. "I'll see you tomorrow." He breathed.

"Goodnight Tony."

Ziva walked away, everything feeling lighter than it had in a long time. Those butterflies were back in her stomach, but this time it was a good feeling, the feeling you got when you were tipping over the edge on a rollercoaster, weightless and free, terrifying and exciting, she had always felt that way around him, she hid it with taunts and eye rolls, with her teasing nature and heavy sighs when he did something stupid, but she'd always found him enticing. Nothing with Tony DiNozzo was ever going to be the safe or boring bet, and that was what she loved about him.

As she stepped from his apartment block into the cool air of the evening, she felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn't all that cold really, but she knew her body temperature had increased dramatically as soon as he had touched her. She could go back to the motel, spend the evening locked away with her thoughts, her regrets at not staying behind tonight, despite how much she wanted to, but she knew there was someone she needed to see before tomorrow. It wasn't until she thought about it that she realised her feet had already begun to take her in the direction she needed to go. She knew these streets so well, even after all this time, instinct had a way of creeping up on you when you least expected it.

It took her about thirty minutes to reach the house. There was one light on, and from what she remembered, it was the kitchen. The porch was still exactly the way she recalled, even down to the cracks and knots in the woodwork. She stepped up to the door but didn't bother knocking; instead she wrapped her hand around the door handle and pushed it open allowing herself inside. She stepped over the threshold and took in the familiar smell of charred steak and bourbon. She walked to the staircase, the staircase that had changed everything between these two, and slowly she forced herself to move forward. Returning to Tony had been hard, but for some reason, she knew this was going to be worse. Inching closer to the stairs she heard a voice she recognised, a voice she'd missed perhaps more than she'd ever allowed herself to realise, it sounded a little deeper now, perhaps more gruff than she recalled, but it was undoubtedly him.

"What took you so long Ziver?"


	4. Chapter 4

Ziva sat on a wood carved stool, intricately engraved with roses and vines, she been given the honour of a glass to hold her bourbon while the gentleman she had grown so fond of in her time at NCIS stood across from her, wood plane in hand shaving off a rounded edge to his latest creation, a jar filled about a third full with the brown, oaky liquid sat close by. Even now, after all this time, he worked in his red hooded sweater, it was more faded now, the elbows threadbare and a few frays around the wrists, but it was every bit the sweater she remembered. His face was just as stoic as she recalled, in all honesty, time had barely touched him, he was one of those people who got to a certain age and stayed there, Gibbs would be Gibbs until he ceased to be anything at all.

"We missed you." He commented, not looking at her, instead focussing his gaze on the wood beneath his hands.

"I missed you too. All of you." She answered honestly.

"Wasn't the same without you." He waited a moment. "_He_ wasn't the same without you." She'd always known Tony and Gibbs shared something nobody could really understand. There was a side to Tony that infuriated everyone, it was the side that Gibbs so often acted upon, head slaps, angry glares, harsh words, but there was a side to him that brought out Gibbs' protective instincts; she'd seen that after her time with Rivkin, after Somalia, and she was getting it again now. People didn't mess with his team, it didn't matter who they were, if you hurt a member of his family and the animal instincts kicked in. Emotions in Gibbs were not easy to come by, but you knew when you had wronged him, or someone he cared about, and getting a reprieve from that was not an easy feat.

"I was not the same without him."

"You know he looked for you." Gibbs explained. He stood, putting his plane down and selecting a piece of coarse sandpaper, but he didn't bother to look at her, he continued speaking as though the room were both filled and empty at the same time. "Every year, he accumulated his leave and took a few weeks; he travelled to Israel looking for you."

Ziva felt her heart drop, that was a part of the story Tony had neglected to tell her. Maybe because he knew it would make her feel guilty, maybe because he knew she'd hate herself, or maybe it was because he wanted to stop himself from looking desperate.

"Each time he'd come back deflated and angrier than when he left. I think he felt like he'd failed." Gibbs explained. "Eventually, he gave up."

"I did not know that." She felt her words catch in her throat and she sipped at the bourbon, letting it burn as it slipped down the back of her throat, to try and disguise the emotion in her tone.

"We ran searches for you, McGee had a computer on a constant search, had to know you were okay out there." He described. "But you know the tricks; you know how to stop yourself from being found."

He wasn't meaning to be hostile, that was not who he was. Gibbs had a way of protecting himself like no one else. He had to. When you lost as much as he did, you couldn't afford to take chances with your feelings when it came to someone else. Gibbs had been like a father to her, and while he never said it, he treated her the way he might have done Kelly had she lived to see Ziva's age. The bond between the two of them was unique and strong, it was different than the bond she had ever had with another person in her life. It wasn't just Tony she had damaged things with by leaving, it had been everyone. Gibbs didn't forgive easily, he couldn't afford to, and she'd have to do a lot to try to win him back over.

"I was not trying to hide from you," she explained. "I was trying to hide from… life I suppose. I was tired of being the person I was, I needed to be someone different, even if I was only fooling myself."

Gibbs breathed a gentle sigh.

"A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool." He spoke softly, running his hand over the sanded wood before putting the paper back over the grain.

"Shakespeare."

Gibbs nodded.

"So what brought you back?" he asked. For the first time since she arrived he looked her in the eyes, his blue steely gaze just as stoic as ever.

"I was done missing home. Missing my family." She shrugged. "I hoped, perhaps, that you would have me back."

"Ahh Ziva…" Gibbs rubbed his mouth and closed his eyes; he put down the coarse sandpaper and reached out for a finer grain swatch. He put the paper to the wood but kept his hand still. He sighed heavily and she knew she wasn't about to get the answer she so desperately sought. "There's no place for you, we couldn't keep your spot open forever, time goes on, things change. You don't get to walk in and out and expect things to be the same as they were."

"Gibbs, I-"

"You have always had my trust, even when I was angry at you, it didn't diminish how I felt; I had a gut feeling that I could trust you and you didn't let me down. But you vanished, you were gone with no word, nothing, I couldn't argue that with the director, not again. Your job had to be filled this time, and while you left behind big shoes, you weren't irreplaceable." Gibbs was usually a man of few words. The quickest way to explain a situation was often the best in his eyes, he didn't like to be blunt when he knew it would hurt someone's feelings, but there were sacrifices everyone had to make sometimes.

"I understand." Ziva spoke softly. She took a few moments to centre herself. She spoke again with a stronger tone, the one he remembered so well. "Is that what you think I came here for?" she questioned. "You think I came here just to ask for my old job back?"

Gibbs' face gave away nothing.

"I came to see you, to ask _you_ to take me back. Not at NCIS, but as your friend, your family. I want you to forgive me Gibbs, that is all I ever wanted. Your forgiveness for walking away the first time, your forgiveness for doing it again. Yours is the only opinion that really mattered to me. I am sorry I let you down." Her mind churned over, a series of past memories flooding through her brain. She searched for the one she wanted, one that she had not thought about for too many years than she cared to recall. "Someone once told me "it is better to seek forgiveness than ask permission"," she quoted. "I did not seek permission to leave, I did not say goodbye and for that I am sorry, I was a different person then, but now I am seeking your forgiveness because I _am_ sorry, and I want you to know that."

Gibbs rubbed his thumb over the sandpaper before setting it to work on the wood. She could tell that his own mind was fighting a flurry of thoughts churning around inside. Trust had to be earned; she'd done enough to earn it but had simultaneously done enough to destroy it too. She was not the troubled young agent he once took in; she was not the haphazard, angry, ruthless person he had once known back in her first days at NCIS. Had the old Ziva taken off, not bothered to send word that she was okay, he could have accepted that, but she wasn't the old Ziva then.

"Rule six." He muttered.

_Never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness. _That was a rule that had stuck with her all this time. She dared to let a smile crack her lips, she dared to hope this was his way of saying it would all be okay.

"Sorry." She smiled to herself. "I am… I will shut up." She laughed lightly.

Gibbs pulled himself upright and put the sandpaper down, lifting his jar he took a slow glug of the liquid it held before tapping his thumb gently to the glass.

"If I've learned anything," Gibbs began. "It's that nobody has enough time to do everything they want to do while they are here."

Ziva felt a pang of guilt wash over her; his father, she hadn't offered her condolences over Jackson's death.

"For some reason some people get a lot more time than others, some people get to live a good life, a happy one, but that's not the same for everyone. Some people find happiness and let it go, some have it ripped away from them and others never find it at all. Whatever this is, your return, your redemption, it will be your only chance, you can't do it again,"

"I do not want to do it again… Gibbs…" she whispered.

"I mean it Ziva, you didn't have to deal with the fall out; you left before and when you came back things returned to normal. This was different. Nobody gets over losing someone, when they are taken from you, you learn to accept it, you don't question yourself or your actions, you just start to live with how things are, but when someone choses to go, and without any real closure, that isn't something you learn to live with. You start to play things over in your mind, every word, every gesture, every action; you start to think, was it because of me? I will not stand back and watch an entire team of people rip themselves apart if you chose to leave again. Is that clear?" The look on his face, she had never seen it before. It was primal, instinctive. He was doing what he did best, protecting his family, she admired that about him, but it also saddened her that she was considered a threat they needed protection from.

Nevertheless, Ziva nodded eagerly.

"Yes. I understand."

Silence passed in the basement and the two of them each reached for the respective drinks receptacles and took a drink as though sealing the deal that she could come back into their lives with his blessing, provided she wouldn't hurt them. Gibbs pursed his lips and eyed the wood before him. Picking up a chisel he indented markers to chip out while she looked on.

"If you want a job," he said, not bothering to look away from his work. "I don't have a place on my team, but, I can put in a decent reference." He explained.

"Thank you Gibbs." She said with sincerity and gratitude. She stayed on the stool, unsure whether that had been her cue to leave or not. She hadn't finished her drink but Gibbs wasn't much for conversation and she knew he liked to work on his craft as a way to unwind.

As though he had heard her thoughts, Gibbs reached out and sought a new swatch of sandpaper from the worktop. He handed it over to Ziva without a single word, setting himself down with his chisel and a hammer. Ziva smiled as she touched the coarse paper in her fingers; acceptance, she wouldn't get the exact words but his gesture said more than any words ever could. She put down her glass and moved towards the wooden sculpture, lightly touching the sandpaper to the spot Gibbs had left off on. They worked together in silence for a brief few moments before Gibbs began to speak again.

"You've been to Tony's?" he asked.

"Yes."

"So you met Amelia?"

Ziva nodded with a smile.

"She is beautiful."

Gibbs concurred like a proud grandfather.

"She was the silver lining." Gibbs explained. "She's the reason he kept going."

Ziva understood, she saw how much Amelia meant to Tony and she knew that she would be just as important to everyone else too. The two of them continued to work in silence once more, Gibbs expertly carving out smooth grooves while Ziva sanded down the work he'd already done. If anyone understood the idea of enjoying company without the need for talk, it was them. Gibbs didn't need to ask Ziva about her lost time in the same way that he didn't need to fill her in on his. She trusted he would talk to her about the events that mattered and she knew that as time passed Gibbs would learn things about her time away without her even realising. She wasn't sure how long they worked in comfortable silence, but she was more grateful than she could ever say when Gibbs looked across at her and said "It's good to have you back." before returning to his work as though nothing had ever passed between them.

* * *

_**A/N: **This chapter was difficult to write. I didn't want Gibbs' forgiveness to come quite as easily as it seemed too, but at the same time, I think that in spite of everything, Ziva holds a special place in Gibbs' life that would make it difficult for him to want to stay mad at her. Having lost his family before, I feel like he'd do what he could to keep the people he has taken as a new family close. By no means do I think he would do that lightly, I tried to convey that he wanted to make sure that Ziva knew this would be her only chance to prove she thought as much for her NCIS family as they did her. I don't know if it came across the way I would have liked but after ten years away Ziva would not be the only person to have changed. _

_As always, thank you to everyone for reading and the kind words you have left me. With any luck there should be more reunions soon!_


	5. Chapter 5

Ziva sat in the front seat of Tony's car, her heart racing. She had barely slept when she finally made it back to the motel last night. It seemed like Gibbs was willing to accept her back, it hadn't been the most comfortable of conversations but it hadn't been as difficult as she had initially feared. The agent had made a good point; life was too short to waste it being angry or holding grudges, particularly about people you cared about, but then Gibbs, like herself, had dealt with more loss than most in his time. She was equally nervous with anticipation and trepidation about seeing everyone again. It wasn't like she hadn't thought of them too over the years. Tony might have held a larger bulk of her thoughts but they had never been pushed to the back of her mind. You didn't walk away from a family without finding them entering your thoughts at times that often surprised you or caught you off guard.

She recalled a time when she had been walking a sidewalk and up ahead she had glanced a black lace parasol. Her heart had skipped a beat and she found herself caught short of breath. She took in the black shoes, the long socks; she hurried herself into a run to catch up. She called out to the pedestrian. "Abby! Abby!" She drew closer and closer towards them only to feel her heart sink when her hand made contact with the person's shoulder and the face staring back at her was not that of the forensic scientist but a passing stranger whose face was now nothing more than a blurred memory.

She had paced her motel room that morning, unusually concerned about what she ought to wear, eventually settling on a pair of beige pants and a black, long-sleeved shirt. Then she had found herself pacing the parking lot waiting for Tony to arrive. She thought about walking, trying to clear her head en route; she'd always found the roads were good for that kind of thing, but when she saw Tony's car approaching she knew she had to face this head on. As he pulled alongside her, she noticed the empty booster seat in the back.

"Preschool." Tony said as she opened the door, noticing her line of vision. "I drop her for a couple of days a week."

Ziva lowered herself into the car and pulled the door closed.

"Good morning." She greeted.

Tony brushed a curl of hair from the side of her face and leant over lightly pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Good morning." He smiled, mentally noting how normal that had felt. "Are you okay?" He asked, noticing how her shoulders sat low, her fingers tensed into fists.

"I saw Gibbs last night." She admitted. "I went by looking for his blessing, to come back."

"He didn't give it?"

"No, he _did_. It was not as difficult as I thought."

"Well that's great." Tony commented. "Isn't it?" he asked when he didn't see the relief he had expected on her face.

"I do not know, I had prepared myself for it to be harder, it does not make sense that he would accept me so readily. I do not think I could do that if I was Gibbs."

"Then it's a good job you aren't," Tony laughed. "He missed you just as much as we all did; maybe he just was so happy to have you back he couldn't let whatever negative thoughts he had get in the way?"

"Maybe." Ziva concurred.

Tony indicated out of the motel parking lot and drove in the direction of NCIS, things couldn't be that simple she thought, things had already gone too well. Tony had waited for her, Gibbs had accepted her back, and it wasn't realistic that people didn't hold grudges, she better than most knew that. She didn't speak another word for the journey into NCIS; instead she listened to Tony singing along to the radio while her worries circled her brain.

* * *

She hadn't recognised a single security agent making her way through the front entrance of the building. She'd provided her passport as proof of ID and allowed her prints to be scanned; sure they would pop up on McGee's search computer. She half expected someone to restrain her then and there, to insist she wait while agents came to fetch her. Perhaps they would have been told she was just a missing person, maybe they would assume she had committed some horrible offence and that was why she was being sought, but nothing happened. The agent simply handed her a visitor's pass and buzzed her into the building. Tony stood at her side as they waited on the elevator.

"It hasn't changed." He told her. "You know, in case you were getting excited or anything." He smiled.

She returned the gesture but the sincerity was questionable. She was too concerned about facing the people she had been too pre-occupied, too cowardly to say goodbye to before. The elevator arrived and she stepped inside, like a person heading off to the gallows she couldn't shake that feeling of finality, like everything was truly about to change.

"This has been the setting of a lot between us." Tony noted as the elevator began its ascent. "You've shouted at me in her, resented me, you've hugged me, cried on me… and there was that time you had your legs wrapped around my neck!" he winked.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I was sitting on your shoulders after an explosion." She groaned. "Why do you have to make everything filthy?"

"We were pretty filthy at the time, if memory serves me right you had a lot of debris dust in your hair, and some here…" he touched a fingertip to her cheek. "And here…" Her forehead. "And here…" he leant forward to kiss her again but she held out her fingers, pressing it to his lips halting his action.

"Not here." She whispered. "We should not… we should just be us. At least for now."

Tony nodded, despite the longing he felt to hold her again. She was right; they couldn't parade around their new status as whatever they now were to each other, not for other people when they could barely explain it to themselves.

A simple ding sounded, alerting them that they had arrived on their floor and as the doors slid back Ziva felt herself catapulted right back to her days as an agent. There was a constant bustle about the bull pen; day or night, there was always someone busying themselves with a task or some never ending paperwork. That was exactly the way she remembered things and exactly as she found things now. The wall of the most wanted had been updated, no doubt countless times, since her departure. The room appeared to have had a coat of paint, nothing too drastic, perhaps a few shades away from what memory provided her with. The desk behind her old one now featured an agent whose face was unfamiliar; in fact many of the agents walking by were nameless strangers to her. She found herself drawn to her old work space. The desk was the same, the pin boards the same, but gone were her personal touches, her Israeli flag, her pictures, her memories. Sat in her old chair was another agent, an agent with long blonde hair, as Ziva rounded the corner, she noted just how pretty the woman was.

"Good morning Tony." The agent greeted with a smile, pushing herself away from the desk and standing. "I beat you in, you owe me a coffee."

"Yeah well let's try two out of three huh?" Tony jeered. "You know I'll win then."

The agent shrugged.

"Perhaps." She winked playfully.

"Bishop, let me introduce you to someone, this is the previous owner of your desk, this is-"

"Ziva David." Bishop finished for him, her tone bright, chipper. She outstretched her hand and offered it to Ziva. "Ellie Bishop. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she spoke. "I, uh, I've heard a lot of great things."

Ziva put her hand forward and took Bishop's in hers, giving a gentle shake.

"Do not believe everything this one tells you." She smiled tilting her head at Tony.

"Ziva?" The voice was unmistakable. It sounded from behind her and she smiled at the tone resonating around her head. She turned to look at him, to see how time had altered the man with puppy dog eyes and a penchant for designer clothes.

"McGee." She beamed. "It is good to see you." She took in the sight of the agent standing before her. He was taller than she had remembered, his hair was receding ever so slightly but it somehow complimented his face and made him look defined. His cheeks had filled out a little but he was certainly more muscular than the last time she'd seen him. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days but the stubble looked good on him. He wore a fitted suit with a blue striped tie, accessorised only by a gold band around his left ring finger. He had a coffee in one hand, a pastry bag in the other and a look on his face that was neither surprise nor delight at her being there.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His tone far from pleasant.

"I came to see you, all of you. I am back."

"Huh, how long for?" he scoffed, walking past her to his desk.

Ziva looked at Tony for a brief moment as though checking she wasn't the only one sensing his hostility.

"Always. I am back for good." She explained.

McGee nodded.

"Oh. Well. Welcome back then." He spoke, not looking at her but instead at his computer screen.

Ziva stepped towards his desk, understanding his apprehension at her return but a little taken aback that he had been the one unable to hide his true feelings, if anyone was going to have a real problem with her, she had thought it would be Abby.

"You are married McGee?" she asked, trying to draw him into conversation, trying to find that old McGee with the big heart she had admired so greatly.

"Separated actually." He huffed. "But thanks for bringing that up."

Ziva licked her lips, pulling her bottom one between her teeth.

"I am sorry McGee, I did not know."

"Of course you didn't because you weren't here, for any of it." He uncrumpled the top of his pastry bag and reached his hand inside, pulling an iced cinnamon bun from inside it, settling it on the napkin next to his coffee.

"Hey, McGrumpy, cool it a little?" Tony spoke.

"McGee, I am-" Ziva began.

"They got my damn order wrong." McGee spat picking up the cinnamon bun and tossing it into his trash can. He forcefully pushed his chair back, stood up and pushed through the three agents standing in between their desks. "I'm going to get what I ordered. Tell the boss I'll be back soon." He barged by, his shoulder bumping into Ziva as he did so.

"Hey, McGee," Tony called out. "I'll be back in a-" he held up a finger to Ziva as he walked away after McGee. "Tim!" he called.

Bishop stood awkwardly before Ziva.

"He's been a little touchy, you know, since the separation." She offered. "He doesn't mean it."

"I did not mean to upset him." Ziva clarified.

Bishop nodded.

"He'll be okay." She reassured letting a moment of silence cut through the air. "So, Israel?" she questioned. "I've never been there myself, hear it's beautiful though."

* * *

Tony pushed back the closing door of the elevator and stepped in beside McGee, who did nothing to disguise the eye roll at his presence.

"Hey, you want to explain that back there?" Tony asked, choosing to ignore the heavy sigh and pursed lips McGee sounded when he stepped through the door.

"Leave it Tony."

"No, that wasn't about your marriage, you've been separated for months now and not acted any differently. _That_ was personal." Tony loosened his tie a little; suddenly feeling like the air in the elevator was thin. "She's your friend McGee, you can't be just a little happy to see her?"

McGee said nothing.

"It's been a long time, you can't even offer her a "how's it going?" Or "good to see you?"

Still silence.

"She's been through a lot you know; you could at least be welcoming to her."

"Welcoming?" McGee hissed. "Why?"

"Because she's our friend."

"Ha." McGee snorted. "Friend. What kind of friend takes off for another country without saying goodbye? What kind of friend walks away from everything she has, the life she had here with people who care about her without so much as a word?"

"She had her reasons." Tony tried to defend. He wasn't going to pretend he hadn't felt the same way over the years, but that had all melted away when he saw her again, he couldn't be angry or aggrieved towards her, not now he'd finally got her back.

"We all have our reasons for things, doesn't mean we disappear for a decade." McGee's scowl was different than anything Tony had seen from him before. He was really angry, not a little pissed or put out, he was genuinely resentful that Ziva had returned.

"You've never been in her position; you don't know what it's like."

"How can you defend her?" McGee raised his voice and Tony found himself taken aback. "After all she did to you, to us?"

"Because she's our _friend._" Tony repeated.

"She _left_ us. She left _you_. How can you just look past that? Have you forgotten what it was like? The way you used to sit there refreshing your damn inbox just waiting to hear something? Hitting the button on your phone every three minutes to see if you'd missed a text or a phone call. You moped and pined for her every time you looked up and saw it wasn't her sitting at that desk. Nobody said her name, worried they'd set you off. And that was just you. Do you know how many nights Abby came around to sit with me? Playing over everything that had happened, wondering why she wasn't important enough for Ziva to say goodbye to?"

Tony diverted his eyes, looking at his shoes, scratching his eyebrow as though he didn't want to hear it.

"I had to be strong for her. Reassure her that Ziva wasn't holding a grudge, that she didn't care that she'd been cautious of her to begin with, she dragged up things from years ago that I barely remembered but that she thought explained why she didn't get a single message. And all the while I'm sitting there second guessing myself. Maybe _I_ did something that deserved me not to be trusted with however she felt." McGee sighed. "We were friends you know? Maybe not like you two were, there was nothing underlying between us but we were friends, and she just took off. What does that say about what she thinks of me?" McGee looked at Tony as though he truly wanted an answer.

"It wasn't personal Tim."

"It sure felt that way." McGee scratched the back of his head. "You know I had a wedding invite made out to her, a favour too," he laughed half-heartedly. "Remember how she always used to pop up? As if from nowhere? We'd never hear her coming and then turn around and there she'd be… I figured she'd do that at the wedding you know? Just appear. Maybe she'd be in the church before any of us, or waiting at the hotel for the reception," he sighed again, now his voice softer, less angry, and more wounded. "But she never came."

Tony opened his mouth to speak but McGee cut him off.

"People think I'm a push over, they tell me to do something and I pretty much do it, and for the most part, I'm okay with that, but this is one time where I get to put my foot down. I'm not okay with her disappearing and then coming back like it never happened. You can think what you want about that, I don't care."

Tony had to admire his courage, it had taken McGee a long time to realise that standing up to Tony was okay. It didn't make the agent think any less of him and as much as he thought it would make his life worse, Tony had respected him for it. Maybe he didn't approve of McGee's feelings toward Ziva right now but he understood why he felt that way, and honestly, he couldn't blame him. He and McGee had never discussed Ziva's departure, not once. He'd been too wrapped up in how he was dealing with it to ever worry about how it might have been affecting McGee, it was only now he was realising that it was far more than he could ever have known.

* * *

Ziva didn't wait for Tony to return, she'd always had a gut feeling about things, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that being around McGee right now wasn't the best idea. Instead she excused herself from the small talk she was making with Bishop and descended the stairs to autopsy. There was a body on the table, freshly sewn up, two people sat at the desk going over their notes. Ziva gave a delicate knock on the glass panel and watched as both men turned to face her, one familiar, one not. The familiar one enthusiastically waved her inside.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" He smiled walking over to her as she stepped through the doorway and across the sterile floor. "Ziva David." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug, his clothes smelling of formaldehyde.

"Hello Palmer." She greeted, lifting one arm to wrap around his back.

"How have you been?" He asked, letting go and allowing himself to look the woman up and down. He settled his eyes on her face and smiled in awe, awaiting her many tales of her time away.

"I have been okay," she smiled. "And you?" She had always had a soft spot for Jimmy. He had felt the brunt of jokes of taunts from the agents back in her days here, there was a hierarchy that needed to be maintained, "autopsy gremlin" had been a friendly nickname to show that while, on the outside, Jimmy was not the agent he might have liked to be, he had been accepted by the team as a valid member. He looked more mature now. His hair was styled in a simple and efficient all over long shave, quick and easy to maintain with three children to look after. He still had those black framed glasses that highlighted his eyes perfectly and despite the somewhat sleep deprived weariness that was etched across his face; she had never seen him look happier.

"I'm good, thanks." He nodded. "Really good, Breena and I are close to celebrating another anniversary; she makes me so happy. Every day I wake up and I look at her and I think _how_ did I get to be this lucky? There isn't a single day that passes by when she doesn't do something that makes me fall for her all over again." He pulled his wallet from his pocket. "We have three children," he began, his words all coming at once as though he had been saving them all up to tell her if she ever returned. He opened his wallet and showed her a photo that nestled in the clear window. "This is James Junior," he pointed to a tall blonde boy, he was maybe 8 years old, he wore a hearing aid and a smile brighter than any Ziva had seen before. "He's so smart, and kind, he wants to be a writer and an inventor!" Jimmy explained. "And this is Sarah," he pointed to a beautiful little girl with long brown hair neatly braided over her shoulders. "She wants to be a singer, that or a veterinarian, she's got the skills for it, and I've never met anyone as compassionate and gentle as she is." He moved his finger over to the youngest child, perhaps four or five years old. A flame haired little boy with a beaming smile and the piercing green eyes stared back from the picture. "And this little one, well he just stole my heart." Jimmy explained with utter devotion in his tone. "He only came to us last year and already we are seeing him try things nobody ever thought he could do." It was only on a second glance that Ziva noticed the boy was sitting in a wheelchair. "His name is Daniel; we knew we had to give him a home as soon as we saw that face. He has the most infectious laugh and the most positive outlook on life you could ever come across. He says he's going to be a professional basketball player and he has got every bit of stamina to get himself there." Jimmy described. He breathed a gentle sigh of pleasure. "My heart is filled, things just couldn't be any better." He closed his wallet and slid it back into his pocket, one hand on his chest as though checking that his heart had not given up from over use.

"I am so pleased for you Jimmy." Ziva smiled.

"Dr Palmer?" The person she hadn't recognised sheepishly moved across the floor toward the two of them. He couldn't bear to meet Ziva's eyes, his face already flushing. He was young, maybe fresh out of medical school; he walked with his head down and his shoulders low. "Could you sign this off please? Then I can go file it." He held up the clipboard and Jimmy took a pen squiggling on the bottom. "Thank you Doctor." And with that, he left autopsy.

"That's Fuller." Jimmy spoke. "After Dr Mallard retired, I didn't feel ready to take on the job of chief medical examiner. I didn't feel like I could train someone else, not the way Dr Mallard had trained me. But he told me his time had come and I had to step up to the plate eventually. He told me I needed to believe in myself and at first I just couldn't. I screwed a few things up, nothing unusual there right?" he laughed. "But pretty soon things fell into a routine and now it's like breathing you know? You just _know_ how to do something and you do it well. I'm teaching Fuller the best I can and hopefully, if it's even a tenth as well as Dr Mallard trained me; he'll do alright for himself."

"You will do a great job." She reassured him, watching the pride on his face at her recognition. "It seems like you have done well for yourself." Ziva smiled.

"We play the hand we're dealt." Silence. Jimmy shifted from foot to foot and it reminded Ziva of the awkward, shy person she'd known before she left. "I'm sorry the hand you were dealt wasn't the best." He offered. "If it makes a difference, you were missed a lot around here."

"Maybe." She said. "Maybe not."

"Met a little resistance on your return huh?"

Ziva nodded.

"Well I mean, people are pissed sure, you took off, can you blame 'em? I mean if Breena just flew the coop one day I'd probably end it all," he started laughing. "So Tony's a little angry at you, he'll come around, you know, it's Tony."

"Actually it was not Tony."

"Oh…" And there it was. The old Jimmy Palmer. The man who put his foot in it at the most inappropriate times and locations. "Well Gibbs, you know he lost one family with you taking off I guess he probably felt like he was losing them all ov-" he looked at Ziva's face. "Not Gibbs?" he questioned. Ziva shook her head, unable to hide the sideways smile that started to show. "What the hell do I know huh?" he shrugged. "I should just… get back to the dead bodies, it's a little harder to offend them." He explained.

"I have missed you Jimmy." Ziva smiled.


End file.
